Living a Life I Don't Know How to Live

It's that time of the year again, when I start avoiding advertisements because they're all so focused on Mother's Day in the US. To be honest, this is not the worst time of year for me (that essay I wrote a few years ago, "How to Survive Thanksgiving When Your Family Keeps Dying in the Fall," is still true), but it's not the greatest, either.

This morning, Facebook reminded me that six years ago today, I was called home because Mom went in for emergency surgery and no one thought she would survive it. That was not the first time I was called home, nor the last, but it was probably the worst. I was in Michigan, I was literally in the middle of a take-home final, and I couldn't afford a last minute flight, so I had a 10 hour drive ahead of me before I could be there in person. Mom didn't die at that point, but she was sick enough that neither she nor Dad made it to graduation, even though they'd been looking forward to it from pretty much the moment I moved to Michigan for law school.

Thanks for the memories, Facebook!

Two other times I was called home stand out. One was in either 2005 or 2006, and I wasn't so much called home, because I'd already moved back to my hometown to be closer to my family, but called out of work to the hospital a couple hours away where she was receiving special treatment. Pretty much all the siblings came home for that. We took over a section of the ICU waiting room (we are legion), said our good-byes, and waited. It was terrible. It was, perhaps surprisingly, wonderful, too. We don't get a lot of time to be all together like that, even back then, and sitting and waiting gave us a lot of time to talk. My sister, Kris, tried to teach us to knit. My youngest brother renamed "knit" and "purl" to "neal" and "diamond." I failed miserably at everything about knitting. Youngest brother turned out to be a fast learned. We sat, and we talked, and we brought in food, and we were together. It was terrible. It was wonderful.

Mom lived.

The other time that stands out is in 2012. I was called home, had to leave work in the middle of the day. I was working on office action responses for a trademark client. I'd been called home so many times I didn't even pack funeral clothes, just threw a pair of jeans into the car and a couple shirts. Figured I'd be back at work by Monday. It's just about a four hour drive between Kansas City and my hometown. I did it in less than three. I avoided the interstate, took roads that twisted and curved and forced me to pay attention to my driving, didn't give me much time to think. I made it home. Not everyone did. Mom's birthday was the week before. She'd been at home for it. Had a steak dinner with Dad. I went home. She was unconscious. I went home, held my father's hand. She couldn't hear us. I went home, listened hard, caught her last breath. I went home. It was terrible.

Mom died.

So my younger sister and her husband had their social wedding last weekend (they actually got legally married last summer), and I will talk about this more later, when I have pictures, but it's been awhile since I posted (anything at all, dude) something hilarious(1) | heartbreakingly sweet(2) | adorable(3) | full of the need for adventure(4) about my parents, so I thought I would do so quickly.

In case you don't know, my mom is very sick, and has been since the early 2000s (well, her symptoms really started manifesting then). When she first started seeing a doctor, they gave her basically no time at all, and yet she's still here. It's been this horrible roller coaster combination of will she live/will she die and slowly watching her die and her wanting to die and her not wanting to die and her being hospitalized and watching her broken body and her going into the hospital right before graduation and right before the bar exam and my siblings and me breaking down at different times and making plans for after her death for over a decade now, and it is hard.

Back in 2005, Mom and Dad had their 50th wedding anniversary, and my siblings and I gave them a second wedding, because they really didn't have one when they actually got married. Mom was strong enough then to walk down the aisle and dance a little, but not a lot. She's gone very far downhill since, and when she leaves the house, has to go in a wheelchair. (She doesn't walk much around the house, either.)

That may be the last time I've seen them dance; they used to dance a lot. They were good. They used to dance around the kitchen together, and put on music and dance in the living room, and Dad used to play the guitar and sing to her, to us all. (He's lost the dexterity and feeling in his fingers to do that now. Mom has, too; she used to play bass, and was learning violin. No more, though.)

I didn't cry during the ceremony, but I got a little bright eyed during the first dance, because you guys, my brother in law just makes her so happy, and she's my beloved baby sister, the Sam to my Dean, and it took us so long to be friends, and I just want such wonderful things for her. So a little bright eyed, but no actual tears, and I'm beaming at them while they dance, even though I normally find the first dance incredibly boring.

Then they invite everyone to join them. My dad starts to push Mom's wheelchair onto the dance floor, and okay, it's getting a little hard to see now, something's in my eye, maybe I should own waterproof mascara after all (but I never need it). Then Mom stops him, and slowly, so achingly slowly, stands up, holding his hands once she gets herself upright, and they walk out onto the dance floor together, and I am done. I started crying so hard I was pretty sure I was going to lose a contact, even though I couldn't stop grinning too. And they didn't dance they way they used to, all slick fun dance steps, but they held each other and they turned, and I was crying even when I got asked to dance (Me: Make-up? Jake: Little smeared. Me: Oh god, and it took forever).

My parents got up and danced together at my sister's wedding, nearly fifty-seven years after they got married, and I got to see it.



(1) See, also, this conversation:

Dad: You should write a story about warewolfes (which is basically how he pronounces it) bears. Bears like warewolfes. And moose! Vampire moose.
Jake: Vampire moose? Do they gore you instead of bite you and then lick the blood from the wounds?
Dad: Yes. Write this story for kids. A bedtime story.
Jake: That kid will never sleep again.
Carla: And mom wonders why I love horror.

(2) See, also, excerpts from things Mom and Dad wrote about me for law school graduation:

Mom and Dad put together one of those family ads for graduates. I thought I'd share the pictures with you guys. And an excerpt from their blurbs.

Dad: Carla is constantly seeking. Even as a 2 year old it was always “Tell me more, Daddy, tell me more.” . . . She has made any dreams I might have had come true. I didn’t get much formal education. But Carla has done it for me. She is my adventure child.

(Dude, could my user name be any more appropriate? My heart just grew ten sizes today.)

Mom: I taught her that books were adventurous and fun even before she could walk (as soon as she could pull them off the shelf.) I read to her every night even after she could read them herself. Being able to read is the foundation for all other learning.

(3) See, also, this picture of my dad in a St. Pat's parade: Link to a picture where my dad has the best grin.

(4) See, also, that time Dad made me want to clutch my laptop to my chest, I needed to hear what he had to say so badly: "[W]e will take off in some direction and ride til sundown . . . just a ride with nowhere in particular in mind as a destination. Just a ride to burn up gas, see things and accomplish nothing but have fun."

This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.org with comments. Read the original post there. Comment here or there using OpenID.

I keep reading Follow Friday posts on Saturday and meaning to write one up for the next Friday, but then I never do. And I noticed again today that a lot of the people on my reading list also read each other, because I keep seeing the same links posted all over, but not everyone is reading the same people I am, I know. So I thought, for Follow Friday, I'd link to the blogs I read which have links and posts that make me think, make me mad, make me sad, etc. Topics cover all sorts of things, including racism, sexism, sizeism, ableism, homophobia, transphobia, politics, etc.

These are in alphabetical order based on the first user name I knew. Where I knew a second user name off the top of my head, I included it as well. If I have a name wrong, or if you don't want the two names linked, please let me know. I think I only linked ones that are obviously linked, but I could be wrong. Also, I tried to only list names where a significant portion of links and analysis are posted publicly.

These are a few of the many blogs I read and recommend to you.

AngryBlackBitch (I don't know how to make the little feed tag, like the user names, so instead for the ones I read on a feed, I'm linking straight to the site. Also, I started reading ABB when I left Missouri, to keep up on Missouri politics before I returned, but there is so much more than that here. In case you don't care about Missouri politics.)
asim
badgerbag
coffeeandink | coffeeandink
delux_vivens
fiction_theory
fox1013 | fox1013
glass_icarus
hermionesviolin
inlovewithnight
ithiliana | ithiliana
karenhealey
karnythia
kibbles | kibbles
ladyjax
littlebutfierce | littlebutfierce
Living400lbs.
maevele | maevele
Marci Sischo
mystickeeper | laceblade
naamah_darling
onceupon | onceupon
sanguinity | sanguinity
troubleinchina | trouble
upstart_crow
vito_excalibur | vito_excalibur
yeloson
yuki_onna

There you go, a number of blogs I think you should read.

ETA: Mom was just telling me about the variety shows she used to watch when tv was a new thing and she remembers Elvis in the beginning. My parents have seen so much in their lives.

This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.org with comments. Read the original post there. Comment here or there using OpenID.

So I was prepping a story for submission to an anthology, due a few days ago, but with Mom and the bar, I didn't get it done. It's a publisher I'd worked with before, and the editor knew I planned to submit (and had my synopsis already), so I sent a quick email just to give her the heads up that I wouldn't be submitting. She not only offered me an extension, but when I let her know when I thought I could have it done, said I could have more time than that if I needed, just to keep her updated.

I didn't expect that. I have a mental block against asking for extensions. Frequently, I just don't think about it; if the deadline is Day A, I'll get whatever it is done by Day A. I have a hard time asking for help, too. If things need to be done, I find some way to do it.

It was really hard for me to ask for an extension on my finals this semester, when I needed to get to Mom's side to say good-bye just in case. I am trying to be better about asking for help when I need it -- I did ask for the extension, after all -- but my first thought is not to reach out. I think I get this from my father, because I am watching him learn to reach out to the family for help, too.

I'm on my lunch break, so I'd better get some writing done and then get back to bar prep.

I talked to my dad for about an hour tonight. One of the things we discussed was Monsters & Music, my current novel writing project. (I also have review writing projects and short story writing projects, not to mention law school projects.) I've sent the first twenty or so chapters to my first readers, which includes Mom and Dad, and though Mom gave me her thoughts on the first ten chapters awhile ago, I hadn't heard from Dad about it.

(Dad is actually one of my subject-matter experts for all my writing, even the stuff that goes under the professional pseudonym; I run all the car details by him starting early in the writing process -- sometimes as early as the outlining stage -- and then have him double check the details. Sometimes this is only a line or two in a short story, though a novel like Werewolves in Love which has a mechanic main character is a lot more work for him. He's also one of my musician consultants, because he's a guitarist.)

The amusing part of all this is that neither of my parents actually likes what I write. I mean, not my work, but the genres and styles. They are both readers, but neither are fans of horror or monsters or paranormal romance or whatever. They don't really read teen fiction, either. Basically, the only reason they read my work is because it's mine, which is really sweet and supportive. I mean, Monsters & Music is teen fiction about a girl who can see the ghosts of murdered people and who ends up in the middle of some werewolf politics, and Dad has pretty much zero interest in any of those things, but was super supportive anyway.

I love that, even though they aren't interested in the genre, they are always eager to read more. My parents are awesome.

This reminds me of a story I shared with bewize the other day, but meant to share here, too. I was outlining the end of the chapter I'm currently writing for Monsters & Music and realized there was going to be some serious making out and fooling around. For a moment, I was all, oh, Mom and Dad are going to read that, they're aren't really for sexually active teens, kinda awkward. Then I remembered it was ridiculous to be nervous, because a) I believe in my characters and their actions and support that but also b) they've already read the masturbation scene anyway, so how in the world was kissing awkward?

I'm entertained by us.

I'm sometimes amazed by how close Dad and I are, considering how different our beliefs. I was telling him about Obama speaking at graduation, and made sure to reassure him that it wasn't the same ceremony Dad's attending, because he's not interested in hearing Obama speak, while I'm thrilled about it. For some reason, we started talking about politics, too, and health care reform, and tax reform, which gets us both riled up, but in the end, even though I so deeply disagree with a lot of things, he still supports me completely.

I think the point I'm getting at here is how incredibly lucky I am to have such amazing parents.

Actually, this is sort of an aside to a rant I'm drafting about adoption stories and how frustrated I've been with them in the media these days. I should finish that up and post it, maybe Thursday. (Wednesdays are busy days for me at school.)

Dad actually wanted to talk to me today because he got his passport for our bar trip and was giddy with excitement about it. I'm giddy, too. While we were talking about it, he said he no longer thinks our original schedule is enough, he wants to more than double the time we'll be out together. I told him I was free from August 1 to November 1, so however long he wants to make this roadtrip, I'm game.

Basically, this entry can be summed up as this: My family, totally awesome.

Did you know that chimera_fancies has pendants on sale right now? Here is the page, to be updated again in the morning. Her pieces are incredible, so you know. (I owned three at one point, but they were lost in the break-in over the summer, which broke my heart.) I love some the phrases on these ("in love with the robber girl dreaming of needles without thread" and "the star answered I cannot promise part of myself neither within nor without" and "O daughter, like an Amazon, be the Wild reach the heavens" and "you must be a witch born under a lucky star" in particular), but the colors aren't really grabbing me the way the lost three did. Which is good, because I don't actually have any money for jewelry right now.

I hope some of you find lovely things, though.

In other news, Mom is in the hospital again. If I'm distant, that's why.

I feel like answering questions. I know I have a couple question sets in my inbox, but these from rosepurr were the latest and therefore the most accessible. If you'd like a question set, leave me a comment letting me know. I make no promises, but if I have some interesting questions, I'll ask them of you. Also, if you have questions for me, leave them in a comment and I'll answer, though maybe not all of them publicly. Comments are screened.

1. Are you still considering eventually moving into law librarianship?

Yes, I think so. I think this would be something I'd like to do in my retirement, after I am done practicing law full time. (Like my parents, my idea of retirement includes getting a new career.) I enjoy research a lot and quite liked working at the library during undergrad (which wasn't a law library, I realize, and things are different as an actual librarian). If nothing else, I'd like to take some classes on law librarianship at some point. (There's a year long program I'd adore, but it's not possible for me right now.)

2. You seem very tall in the all of the photos I've seen of you. How tall are you?

I'm just over 5'10" and would love to finally reach 6' but I don't think it will happen. At first I was amused by the fact that I appear very tall in photos, but then I realized most of the photos I've posted here have been me with law school friends who are, as a whole, shorter than me. Photos of me with my family present quite a different picture. Of my siblings, I am the second shortest; only one of my older sisters is shorter than me. Both my parents are shorter, too; you can really tell the kids are adopted when you see us together with them.

3. What's your favorite drink?

My favorite soda is diet Dr. Pepper, though I also drink diet Pepsi and diet Coke depending on availability. I am a big fan of tequila, though I don't drink it as much anymore. I like sweet wines, and my favorite is a Missouri wine called Pink Catawba from St. James Winery. I love peppermint mocha lattes made with skim milk. I drink gallons of iced tea, generally unsweetened these days. Law school has taught me that a good martini is a thing of joy.

4. What was your favorite book before you turned 10?

I'm not sure. I don't remember a lot of my childhood clearly, not for any horrible reason but because if I don't write things down, like in this blog, I simply don't remember them well. I do have some clear memories of Mom reading to me. We read lots of books that way, but I particularly remember her reading the Little House on the Prairie books. She has a very particular way of speaking when she reads aloud, and I can remember watching the precise way her mouth formed the words. I also loved Where the Red Fern Grows, in part because I had a hound dog (or, rather, a mixed mutt that was mostly beagle) and so though the story broke my heart, I loved it all the same.

5. How would you describe your high school experience?

I misread this at first as "How would you describe your best high school experience?" and was stymied with all the choices. I had a wonderful time in high school. I was involved in a variety of great activities, I had interesting groups of friends, and I was pretty successful at everything I did. I get frustrated with the assumption in many of my circles now (law school, geeks, gamers, fandom, etc.) that of course, because we're so smart and created, we had horrible experiences in high school. I wouldn't want to relive it, but then I don't want to relive anything. I'm interested in moving forward with life; there's so much more to live. But high school was fun and enjoyable. I think that's part of why I like writing about it.

I am really busy right now, as all my trips home end up being despite my best plans, but I wanted to share this tidbit of how awesome my family continues to be. Today Mike and I explained Twilight to Mom and Dad (briefly, mostly focusing on the sparkling) and then Dad created an oral Twilight fanfic.

My family? Totally, totally awesome.

More later.